


Silent Laughter

by Ephemeral_Joy



Series: "When I kissed you" // Stydia [4]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Domestic, F/M, Fluff, Mention of Scott - Freeform, They Have Kids, Wild Hunt (Teen Wolf), one kid gets taken, so post 6B
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-27
Updated: 2017-07-27
Packaged: 2018-12-07 20:52:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11631669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ephemeral_Joy/pseuds/Ephemeral_Joy
Summary: Stiles and Lydia have two kids. One of them gets taken.Drama ensues.





	Silent Laughter

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt by anon: Could you write something about stydia as parents to two little kids and maybe one of them gets taken.

Lydia felt almost immediately how a string tugged and snapped in two, making her nearly tumble in the middle of the grocery store. She gasped, clutching her chest. No one died, Lydia realised, but something was wrong. Terribly wrong. A woman sent her a curious look, but Lydia just smiled and let the woman know she was okay. But Lydia knew something was off. She looked down at her cart and frowned. Why was there a carton of cornflakes? Stiles and her never ate it. She looked at the aisle she was in: dairy. She stood right next to the yogurt specified for children. She pursed her lips. She must’ve stopped here on accident.  
Lydia continued her stroll, grabbing various sorts of cheese every now and then. Everything seemed normal, she noted, no one was crying or screaming. There was no blood nor open flesh to be seen in her perimeter. Yet still. Lydia quickly went to the cash register, payed for her groceries, and loaded everything in the trunk of her car. In fast tempo she went back to her apartment, snatched the bags with her and opened the front door, only to be met with everything ordinary.  
Their blue couch hadn’t moved an inch, as well as the trinkets on the coffee table and the painting near the kitchen. Elliot’s toys were scattered on the ground and Stiles’ coat still had the oil stain on it from the Chinese food truck they tried a few weeks ago. With deliberate steps, she observed the rest of her home. Touching the walls, placing her hands on furniture. Everything was in its place, but something was missing. She couldn’t pinpoint what it exactly was, but she knew it. She felt it.  
She sighed, letting it go for now and placing the bags on the kitchen island, placing the food in its designated spot. Bread on the counter, fruit in the pink bowl, wine in the fridge. Her hand halted at the cornflakes she had forgotten to take out of her cart. Her eyes flit at the grocery list she had made this morning. It wasn’t on the list. Lydia bit her lip. She knew she has been deprived of sleep as of late, but it never came to the point where she forgot why she did something. Lydia didn’t just do things. All the questions were making her head ache, so like any grown, mature woman would do, she would fret about it at night. At around four in the afternoon, the front door opened, followed by the shuffling of two pairs of feet, the shrugging of coats and the murmuring of words.  
Lydia stood up from the couch where she had been reading, to meet Stiles halfway.

‘Hey,’ she greeted, pecking his lips.  
He smiled brightly, ‘Elliot fucking owned the playground,’ he said, an excited glint in his eye.  
Lydia rose an eyebrow, ‘First of all, language,’ Stiles rolled his eyes, ‘secondly, what did you do?’  
‘I did nothing!’, Stiles said defiantly, pointing at Elliot simultaneously, ‘He was getting pestered away by kids and he stood up for himself.’  
Lydia narrowed her eyes, ‘Why didn’t you do anything.’  
‘I was buying us pretzels.’  
Elliot joined in, nodding vigorously, ‘They were delicious.’  
Lydia’s features softened, meeting the amber eyes of her eight year old son. From the second she held him in her arms for the first time, she knew he would be her kryptonite. Elliot was a handsome and smart kid. He’d gotten the hair of Lydia, and the eyes, nose and moles of Stiles. Even though he loved playing with his Lego, he thoroughly enjoyed watching documentaries with his mother. (Or at least, Lydia figured, that’s what he says) No doubt will he be breaking hearts when he’s in high school.

Elliot continued blabbing on about his playground adventures whilst Stiles and Lydia were cooking. _(“India was being rude to Odette, but I stopped their fight! That’s great, right?!” , “Evan told me I have carrot hair. Is my hair made of carrots?” , “Why are clouds changing shapes?”)_ Suddenly, he stopped and furrowed his brows, looking around the kitchen and living room with squinted eyes.  
‘Where’s Juliet?’ Lydia halted in her movements of chopping onions, hands frozen and eyes widened. Something was missing. Someone was missing. She looked up from the vegetable to see a confused boy, staring at the bar stool next to him. His eyes almost wanted to materialise the name into a girl.  
‘What?’, Stiles asked.  
‘Where is Juliet?’, Elliot repeated, arms crossing over his chest.  
Lydia dared to speak, ‘Who is Juliet?’ She was afraid of the answer.  
Elliot looked disgusted, ‘What do you mean? You know who she is.’  
Stiles’ eyes softened at the defensive stance of his son, ‘Is Juliet one of your friends who was supposed to sleep over?’ Lydia nodded along, that must be it. It only seemed to anger him more.  
‘What are you talking about? She’s your daughter.’ Lydia blinked, feeling her stomach plummet to the ground, heart nearly beating through her ribcage.  
‘Elliot,’ Stiles tried to reason, ‘we don’t have a daughter. We only have you.’  
Elliot let out a frustrated scream, sentences bumping into each other along the lines of: “Stop doing this, it isn’t funny!” and “Where is she?”. He eventually left the kitchen and went into his bedroom. Stiles’ eyes flitted to Lydia, worried.  
‘Stiles,’ she said slowly, trying to calm her mind. She felt her lungs constricting. ‘We’ve seen this before.’ He stared at her for a moment, before realising what she was insinuating at.  
‘No,’ he said determined, ‘we did not forget we had a child, Lydia. It’s just one of his friends.’  
‘Think, Stiles’, she snapped, ‘have we ever heard of a Juliet before? And this morning, at the grocery store,’ she gulped, ‘I felt something snap inside of me. And I don’t know why that was, but since then I felt that something was missing, was off. What if this is it?’, she bit her lip, staring at him hopelessly. It has been a while since the banshee side of her took forefront. After leaving Beacon Hills, they had subsided quite a bit. Fugue states were seldom, whispers and shouts minimal. The last time she screamed was over a year ago. Stiles still held himself busy with the supernatural, as he was part of a special unit in the FBI regarding supernatural occurrences, but the Wild Hunt hadn’t showed their faces since senior year. That was eighteen years ago. Stiles rubbed the palms of his hands over his eyes, sighing.  
‘If, hypothetically, we actually have a child and we’ve forgotten about her, then what do we do? Lydia, it’s not like I can just call Scott and bring the pack back together. We’re not-‘, he huffed, getting agitated, ‘we’re not in high school anymore.’ Her eyes casted downwards, nodding. Below the uprising sadness, there was fury. Why, why couldn’t they avoid the supernatural? Wasn’t Greenwich Village, New York far enough from the Nemeton?  
‘I know,’ Lydia said solemnly, going around the kitchen island to grab her husband’s hand. The simple, golden band around his finger glistened in the artificial light. ‘But if this is what we think this is than,’ she rolled her lips inwards, ‘than we have to something. I want to remember Juliet.’  
He nodded, ‘Me too,’ he whispered. On instinct, he engulfed her in a hug, circling his arms around her neck as she nudged her face into his chest, loving the warmth he gave.

‘Okay,’ Stiles clapped in his hands, a firm expression on his face. ‘Where do we begin?’

Their homemade meal long forgotten, they decided to order food from the Italian a few blocks away. They set one pizza in Elliot’s room, as he did not want to come out and face them. Lydia understood. For now. Fifteen minutes later, they sat at the edge of their bed with pasta propped in their mouths, staring at their makeshift mystery board. Stiles’ clear board was back in Beacon Hills with his father, so they had to use Elliot’s little chalk board. Stiles promised to bring one home tomorrow from work. Whilst Stiles had set up the board with the information they already had, Lydia had called Deaton to see if the Wild Hunt was indeed behind Juliet’s disappearance. According to him, they were.  
‘What did you guys do when I disappeared?’, Stiles asked, swallowing his penne. Lydia furrowed her brows, trying to remember all the details.  
‘We first found relics of you, like your Jeep. Then you contacted us, but I don’t think… Juliet will do that,’ the name sounded foreign, and Lydia felt like apologising a thousand times to a girl she didn’t know. ‘From there we went to Canaan, your dad started remembering you and then we remembered you through hypnosis. That opened the rift,’ Lydia concluded, counting all the events that lead to Stiles’ escape.  
‘So, all we need to do is remember her?’, Stiles responded, hands in the air and a victorious smile on his face.  
‘It’s not easy,’ Lydia admitted, ‘and after that, the Wild Hunt will still be there. It’s just senior year all over again.’  
‘Except Theo isn’t trying to murder Scott and you’re not in Eichen House dying,’ Stiles said, humour laced in his tone. After all these years, they found some comic relief in their teenage adventures.  
Lydia rolled her eyes. ‘Right. Without that part.’

*

Elliot sat down in front of them, sending them foul stares. It had been three days since his outburst, and Lydia thought it was time to tell him. Stiles was against it, wanting to keep him in the dark, protected. Lydia argued that by keeping him in the dark, he won’t be safe. Eventually she won him over by using the Peter-card. No one told her in sophomore year what was going on and she thought she was going insane. Stiles complied.  
‘Elliot, you know that your mum is a banshee,’ Stiles began, not knowing how to start the story. Lydia seemed to sense that because she sent him a confused frown. Elliot nodded slowly.  
‘We’ve told you about this whole supernatural world that is out there, with werewolves and werecoyotes and druids and kitsunes – God, Kira was so cool with her katana. I wonder where-‘  
‘Stiles!’, Lydia interrupted him. Of course he would go off track.  
‘Right,’ he corrected himself. ‘Elliot, we’ve told you all that, but, we have never told you the story about the ah, Wild Hunt.’ Elliot cocked his head, mouthing the two words. He rose his eyebrows, waiting for his father to continue. So Stiles did.

‘What you’re saying,’ Elliot breathed out eventually, cheeks tinted red from the tension in the room, ‘is that Juliet is taken by invisible men on horses?’ Lydia nodded, but Stiles narrowed his eyes slightly, ‘They’re more like demons but-‘ he saw Lydia angry glance, ‘that’s not the point right now.’  
Elliot ignored his father, ‘What do we need to do? Remember her like you remembered dad? Because I remember her.’  
Lydia perked up. ‘Do you remember what she looked like? Actual, vivid memories of her?’  
Elliot halted, eyes flitting downwards. ‘Not… really… but I know I have a twin!’  
Stiles blinked, ‘Twin?’, he repeated, an incredulous look on his features. ‘Lydia, we have twins?’  
‘Apparently so.'  
‘Elliot, what else do you remember?’, Stiles asked, turning his attention back to him.  
He exhaled, the machines in his head churning, ‘She has brown curly hair. She’s taller than me and she always teases me about it – wait, where is her room?’ Lydia releases a shaky breath, reminiscing the hours she’d spent leaning against Stiles’ door back when he was gone.  
‘That’s part of what they do. They erase everything.’  
‘But what about the clay magnet?’  
‘The – what?’ Stiles immediately sprung up, racing to the refrigerator and tugging the pink, clay magnet of it. On the backside are two little letters etched into the clay. Initials. _JS_.  
‘A relic,’ Stiles whispered, walking back to Elliot and Lydia and placing it on the coffee table between them. Elliot’s face broke into an excited smile, lighting up the dreary situation. The weather outside wasn’t helping them either, it rained like the streets would be flooding.  
‘What’s next?’

The following week was hectic. Between maintaining their heavy duty jobs, (Lydia as a mathematical teacher at the university, Stiles in the FBI) feeding a kid and themselves and their new supernatural problem, there hasn’t been many hours of sleep for the both of them. Lydia falls face first on their bed, sighing deeply. The touch of the soft, sinking mattress made her want to sleep for two hundred years. She felt the bed dip beside her, and a callous hand caressed her back. Her eyes fell shut.  
‘You okay, Lydia?’ She hummed something inaudible, rolling on her side to meet Stiles eyes.  
‘Tired,’ she repeated, placing a heavy hand on his arm. All her 206 bones are aching. Stiles smiled, shuffling closer to her body and taking her into his embrace. She sighed contently, snuggling into him. She loved it when they were in this position. All her senses felt Stiles. His distinctive smell, his touch, his breath. It all amplified and made her at ease.  
‘Go to sleep, Lydia,’ he mumbled, tiredness already clouding his voice. She nodded, and the heavy blanket of sleep engulfed her.

They woke up early in the morning, both feeling more refreshed than they’ve been in a long time. The bags under their eyes were still quite prominent, but at least they felt better than they appeared to be.  
‘I’m going to get some food, okay?’, Stiles mumbled. She nodded absentmindedly, sleep still slowing her mind down. He smiled fondly, plopping a kiss on her lips before closing the door behind him. Elliot was still asleep as it was the weekend, so the morning was silent. Lydia should enjoy this morning of peace, with no Stiles bantering with her or Elliot trying to persuade her to play with him. (As much as she loved him, Lego got boring _fast_.) But instead, she felt anxious. The Juliet case left her on edge. Their daughter had been missing for almost two weeks now, and she still remembered nothing of her. She couldn’t envision a curly haired brunette that was slightly taller than Elliot. It frustrated her.

The landline rang.

Lydia stood still for a moment, processing it, before answering the call.  
‘Hello, this is Lydia Martin,’ she greeted monotonously. White noise was heard on the other end.  
Lydia frowned, ‘Hello?’ Crackling, popping – noise.  
‘Mom?’, a faint, fragile girl’s voice spoke. It seemed distant. Lydia stilled. It can’t be.  
‘Mom?’ the girl repeated.  
‘Juliet? Is it you?’, she breathed out, whispering. She glanced at Elliot’s closed bedroom door.  
‘Yes. Mom, I’m scared,’ Juliet cried out.  
‘It’s going to be okay,’ Lydia rapidly said, urging her brain to find anything. Something. _Remember her_.

‘Mom!’ Elliot yelled. Lydia’s body jerked up, eyes blinking rapidly fast. Her eyes flitted to the landline, which remained silent and on the hook at the other end of the room. It was an illusion, she figured. Lydia’s breath wavered. She heard Juliet.  
‘Mom, what’s wrong?!’, Elliot yelled, worried.  
‘Sorry, I was just-‘, she searched for through her eloquent vocabulary, ‘away, for a second.’  
The boy furrowed his brows. ‘Where’s dad?’  
‘He’s getting breakfast.’ Elliot smiled at that, grabbing his colouring book of the coffee table along with his pencils and started colouring at the dining table. Lydia smiled.

‘I heard her.’  
‘You heard her?’  
‘It was a dream – or illusion – I don’t know, but I heard her.’  
‘Are you sure?’  
‘Are you really doubting me right now?’  
‘Sorry,’ Stiles apologised, drumming his fingers on the kitchen island. Lydia placed her hand on his, lacing their fingers together. He calmed down.  
‘Did you remember something of her?’, he asked.  
Lydia shook her head, ‘No. We really need to get me under hypnosis.’  
‘What about Elliot?’  
‘No.’  
‘Oh why not?’, Stiles groaned.  
‘Because he’s a kid!’, Lydia exclaimed.  
‘He knows the most of her. Just like you knew the most back in high school.’  
‘But-‘  
‘We can try, Lydia,’ he emphasised on each word, grabbing both her hands.  
She slumped her shoulders. ‘Okay.’

*

‘Okay Elliot. We’re going to try to bring Juliet back. Are you ready for this?’, Stiles asked, paper clutched in hands. Lydia lighted the candle in front of him. She had rummaged through her high school memorabilia in the search for the monologue Scott had used to put her in trance. They were lucky Lydia was a sentimental person.  
‘I’m ready,’ Elliot said, with fierce determination in his amber eyes. Lydia had seen that look many times before. Stiles swallowed, and started reading.

‘Take a deep breath and look at the candle. Feel the muscles in your body begin to relax. Your hands relaxing. Your eyelids relaxing,’ he looked up, seeing his son slowly lowering his shoulders and closing his eyelids. It’s working. ‘As you relax, imagine you’re sitting in front of a TV. When you turn the TV on, it’s going to play memories of your life. The remote gives you total control. You can play any memory you want. All you have to do is hit the button,’ he lowers the paper, staring at the in trance boy in front of him. His lips slightly parted, his left hand shaped as if he was holding a remote.  
Stiles smiled at Lydia encouragingly. She bit her lip, waiting for answers. After a moment he started mumbling things.  
‘I will tell mom,’ he breathed out, pressing the imaginary button.  
‘We need to… stick together… it’s just us against the world.’  
‘It’s twinepathy…’

‘Keep looking for Juliet,’ Stiles urged, ‘Find another memory.’  
Elliot’s hands started trembling, a tear slipping down his cheek. His eyes shot open.  
‘She was crying. I wanted to cheer her up to go to the park but she didn’t want to go. I was the last one to see her,’ he rapidly said, voice wavering and choking. The flame went out. Elliot slumped back in his seat and Lydia immediately got to his aid.  
‘Why was she crying, Elliot?’ He had an angry expression on his face, wiping the tears from his eyes.  
‘Girls are making fun of her for going into “sleep walking mode” at school,’ he said, dragging his hand across his nose. Stiles perked up at that, eyes flitting to Lydia who stared at his incredulously.  
‘No,’ she whispered, ‘no, no, no-‘ Just as Stiles was about to comfort her, paint shredded and ripped apart next to Elliot’s bedroom door. Light beaming through the cracks. The floor wavered, Lydia grasping Stiles arm to stabilise herself. They heard a thud. Elliot sprung upright, running to the chipped of paint. He began scratching it, and Lydia and Stiles quickly joined him. Their landlord can suck it. Elliot reached the door handle first, slamming it open. There, frozen in place because of shock, sat a curly haired brunette girl with vivid green eyes. She was clad in a striped shirt and sweatpants, but they looked up frumpy, as if she’d been away for a while.  
Lydia choked up, ‘Juliet?’ The girl let out a sob, fear still written in her eyes. Stiles immediately went to her rescue, engulfing her in a hug and clutched her tightly. Lydia followed suit as well as Elliot, who had wormed himself between his parents to reach his twin sister.  
Lydia laughed through her tears, ‘We will always find you, Juliet.’ Her eyes flitted at Stiles, who nodded at her.

As night overtook day, the kids went to sleep, and Stiles and Lydia sat on the couch staring blankly at the TV screen.  
‘I called Scott,’ Stiles said eventually, ‘he’s coming over to help with the whole Wild Hunt thing,’ he grinned, ‘Blast from the Past to 2014, baby!’  
Lydia closed her eyes, chuckling. She rubbed her temples, ‘I’m going to talk to Juliet tomorrow about the fact that she is a banshee. So…,’  
Stiles kissed her. ‘It’s going to be okay. You didn’t have a mentor, but she’ll have the best banshee in the world to teach her everything.’  
Lydia smiled gratefully. ‘Thank you.’  
‘Sleep?’, he said after a moment.  
‘Yes, please.’

Stiles dragged her from the couch, and entered their bedroom, getting the sleep they deserve.


End file.
